


Rule 35

by catness



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Urban Fantasy, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 22:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catness/pseuds/catness





	Rule 35

Gary adjusted his binoculars, focusing on the red and white striped lounge chair in the middle of the lawn. The chair stood by a marble sculpture portraying a serpent coiled around a naked body of a woman, illuminated by a vintage wrought iron lantern hanging from the serpent's mouth. Presently the chair was unoccupied. According to the rumors, the action usually started after midnight, but Gary decided to prepare in advance.

He mentally congratulated himself with a good choice of the observation post. Sneaking into the private garden surrounding the villa was devilishly hard, but it was worth it. From his vantage point, hidden in the thick tangled shrubbery, the back yard could be seen close and clear, up to the smallest details.

The only problem was the oppressive smell of orchids. These exotic flowers were planted on both sides of the winding gravel walkway leading from the back porch to the sculpture. Their strong odor, reminiscent on rotten meat, floated all the way across the lawn and assaulted Gary's nostrils, causing an insufferable itch. He suppressed sneezing for as long as he could, confident that he was in control over such an insignificant part of his body, but in the end the nose won. A series of mighty "Achoo!" exploded in the silence of the summer night.

"Hey dude," said the bush next to him, "that was some sneeze! Thought you're going to blow your nose all over my shirt!"

Gary jumped in surprise, almost dropping the binoculars. "Who's there?"

"Just a fellow stalker, I presume," replied the bush. The branches rustled and revealed a long and gaunt face, half-obscured by huge professional long-distance goggles.

"Oh - I didn't realize..." Gary blushed to the roots of his hair. Being caught peeping was almost as bad as being caught in the act itself.

But the stranger didn't seem to be hostile. "Thought it's about time we got company here," he said with a wide toothy grin. "These sneaking grounds are too good to remain a secret forever."

"'We'? You mean there are more..." 

"You think you're the only creep around here?" He guffawed. "Me and my buddy Phil have been regulars in this den of sin for weeks."

"Shhh, Tom, shut up already," hissed a voice from another bush. "I bet she can hear your blabbering from her bedroom!"

"C'mon Phil," said Tom, "even if she could, I'm sure it would only turn her on. Why do you think she does it out in the open and not behind the locked doors like any normal pervert?"

"Because a private property on the outskirts of the city ought to be safe and secure?" ventured Gary. 

"Security through obscurity. That's one thing that never works." Tom chuckled. "As long as there are no electrified fences and guard dogs, the place is as wide open for any passing maniac with half a brain as the gates of Hell for a heretic."

"She's coming!" hissed Phil. "Quiet!"

Indeed, the porch lit with soft light of little red lanterns swaying from the canopy above the stairs. Gary hurried to raise the binoculars to his eyes, even though there was nothing to see yet.

The door swung open, and a tall woman with a red tote bag in her hand stepped out. Gary had never met her in person, but he recognized her immediately. How could he forget that wild mane of black hair, that strong, mature body with wide hips and full breasts, familiar from several illegal videos which he knew forward and backward? But watching everything in real time, standing a few feet away and breathing the same air felt almost as if he himself was a part of the action.

He wiped his sweating palms on his shirt, observing her graceful movements as she sauntered across the lawn, swaying her hips. She sank into the chair and touched a control pad on the sculpture's pedestal. Gary blinked as the bright yellow light flooded the yard. Now he could see every voluptuous curve of her body squeezed into a black leather jumpsuit, every scratch on the silver-rimmed designer glasses framing her dark oval eyes. But most of his attention was focused on the red tote bag and the tantalizing mystery contained within.

Her hand disappeared in the bag and rummaged inside. When she pulled the eerily kinky item out, all three stalkers gasped in unison. "Is it really... it?" whispered Gary, unable to pronounce the vulgar word aloud.

"You bet it is!" replied Tom. "Just wait and see." 

The woman sat still, staring straight ahead, and her full lips curved in a faint smile, as if she was aware of being watched. Gary's face flushed hot, even though there was no way she could see him in the darkness of his hiding place. His heart was pounding, almost jumping out of his rib cage.

"Come on, come on, come on," muttered Phil, "do it."

"What a tease," whispered Tom, loudly crackling his knuckles.

And then it began. 

She placed the item into her lap and opened it in the middle, so if there ever was any doubt as to what it was, now everything was certain. It was a book - a real printed book. No microchips, no LCD screens, no fingerprint scanners, no wi-fi connection; just the obscene nakedness of paper with thousands of words permanently etched onto it, shamelessly offering themselves to anyone who cared to look at them, regardless of the license expiration date, DNA signature and region code.

In the age of digital revolution, when plain paper books unencumbered with DRM, advertisements and spyware became all but outlawed, the mainstream culture turned reading into the most immoral and obnoxious act known to the public. Those who had persisted in their sinful ways were known as "bibliophiles" - a filthy profanity, worse than a necrophile, pedophile and zoophile combined together.

But taboos are meant to be broken - prohibition breeds temptation. Book-reading became a decadent, depraved luxury, available mainly to the rich and bold. Less fortunate citizens had to satisfy their dark cravings by watching the acts of perversion from afar and yearning to do it themselves. And thus the plague of bibliophilia continued to ravage the society.

Rule 34: If it exists, there is porn of it.  
Rule 35: If there is no porn of it, it will be made.

***

Time passed. The woman sat quietly in her chair, engrossed in reading. The silence of the night was disturbed only by the soft rustling of turning pages and by the heavy breathing of the stalkers who followed every movement of the reader's sensuous fingers holding the forbidden treasure tenderly like a precious fruit.

When there is porn, there is hope.


End file.
